Clipping
What are we looking for, I wonder.
What is there we cannot
hope to singing find
what is this here I wonder
wonder whether truly if
all of what we wantis love.
So.
So maybe lines move quickly on the roadside.
Childhills don't show the way
we moving on and moving on
there are such human things to find
to seeof life and death and life
his daughter plucks a single rose.
Not sad, no, it's really a release.
Not sad, a far more gentle death
I keep returning to again.
Again.again again again.
And I don't know if I can ever,
ever truly understand
why children see.She wants
to let them play togetherall
but stillI'd like to play with you.
I'd likeI hope to
sing to you. Sing songs
child, sing us too.
So listen. Fleet-foot life
Waiting. Waiting
listen.Light-foot
listen to the story, here,
for this is where cicadas live
for thirteen years inside the earth,
and only waiting for the day
cicada's life will be a day
And all there is, is this:
It's so much longer than our own.
So.
So I cried, when I watched a broken man
get on a train and leave his son
behind him. It was for the best.
I know the childwantsto let her
don't know why I couldn't do it
any of the other times.
sing us, too
I don't know why.
I know
roam us, too
know it's always hard to say
these things to someone else
and only hope they understand.
But still, I hope you understand.
And I wantto kiss the child.play
So let me tell you a secret.sing
Someday, I'd like to learn to speak.
whisper us
Someday, all people want
Some dayis to be loved.